Hiding, Hate, and maybe Some Hope…
by Krissy10
Summary: Complete!  After Dumbledore's death, Draco is forced to go into hiding to avoid The Dark Lord.  Dumbledore has arranged for Draco's protection, and who better to keep Draco out of trouble than...DMHP...DISCLAIMER  I don't own anything that is owned by JK.
1. Ch1: Hiding’s Not Just For Ex Death

Hey Guys!

Ok, I think I may _finally _have gotten the hang of this whole FanFic thing...Yays!

So, just some notes: 1) This story takes place post-HBP 2) This is my first FanFic... 3) At the moment, I am Beta-less. This is due to unfortunate circumstances, i.e. me moving/summer/vacations/general chaos...so, I won't have my Beta until about a week from now. So, excuse the errors, until i can blame them on my lovely Beta, Emi.

Oh, just disregard any bad humor/seemingly pointless jokes/horrid puns...it's lifestyle...

I'm not going to demand reviews etc. While constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, my main aim is for you to enjoy the story.

So, go to it!

SF,

K10

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**Chapter 1: Hiding's Not Just For Ex- Death-Eaters Anymore…**

The clock on the bedside table said it was 4:02 a.m., June 6th. The weather, as well as the unusual stuffiness of the hotel room, said that it was the middle of an un-naturally humid June night. The glowing green face of a digital clock by the bedside reflected off of the sweat sheen on the forehead of a restless boy sleeping in the bed. Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, was lying face down in a twist of blankets, snoring softly, his deep breaths causing the corner of a pillow case that was hanging in front of his open mouth to sway slightly with every breath. His stringy hair was plastered to his pillow, as well as to the back of his neck in the heat. Every so often he would twitch spastically, entangling himself further into the mess of blankets.

Across the room, a pair of calculating silver eyes watched the sweating boy struggle unconsciously under the mound of twisted covers. Their owner made a sudden sound of amusement when Harry's flailing hand connected with the clock, causing it to skid across the table and collide with a vase of irises, producing a sudden "crack".

The boy who had been sleeping woke with a start, sitting up in bed and drawing his wand from the pocket of his pajama bottoms.

"Whosere?" He muttered, rubbing his green eyes sleepily.

"Settle down, Potter. I won't let the nasty Death Eaters get you. Even if _you_ are the one who is supposed to be protecting _me_ from them…" The other boy smirked, his silver eyes lighting with amusement.

Harry ran a hand sleepily through his messy black hair, unsticking it from his forehead, and gave the blonde a scowl before collapsing back onto the pillows.

Malfoy smirked, levitated a table from across the room, put his feet up, and continued to watch the Gryffindor sleep restlessly.

* * *

An hour later, Draco Malfoy had become very acquainted with what Muggles know as "Cabin Fever". He had been sitting in the hotel room, almost motionless, for a little over four hours. He was, up to this point, quite proud of his self-control in waiting for his "protector" to wake up before he went roaming around the odd Muggle building in which he had spent the night. Now, however, the sun was just breaking through the curtain slats in the window, and the hot, muggy weather outside had begun to look quite cheerful compared to sitting in the blasted room for another minute, listening to "The-Boy-Who-Slept-Too-Much" snore.

As if sensing the hostile glances being thrown at him from across the room, Harry moaned suddenly, did a half twist to the right, and promptly rolled out of the bed, dragging pillows, blankets, and the alarm clock with him. This helped to lighten Draco's mood considerably, and by the time Harry had emerged from the pile a few moments later, he had almost recomposed his face into its normally stoic mask.

Harry stood up, rubbed his bum, and stalked into the hotel bathroom, shooting the blonde boy a horrible look as he stormed past and slammed the door. Draco snorted, and stood to refold the blankets that the careless Gryffindor had left on the floor, wondering vaguely if Harry knew that he had an iris stuck in his hair.

A few moments later, Harry emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist and toothbrush in his mouth, and almost fainted in shock.

"Um..Malfoy?" Harry said tentatively.

"Potter. I see you're awake, finally." Draco scowled, while folding the corners of the duvet back under the mattress edges of Harry's bed.

"Yeah, but…you do know that that's pointless. A maid comes in later to clean the rooms…"

"What, like a house elf?" Draco straightened, pillow in hand, looking curious.

"Well…No. Like a muggle. That's their job. They clean up after the guests…Like, they get paid to…" Harry trailed off, realizing how hypocritical he sounded. Malfoy smirked.

"So…Muggles have _Muggle_ house-elves?" The blonde smirked, fluffing the pillow.

Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed that Malfoy's eyes seemed to be daring him to make a case for the just treatment of "Muggle house-elves".

"No, like Muggle _workers_ whos _job_ is to do that!" Harry growled.

Surprisingly, Malfoy did not retort to Harry's snarky comment; after the row they had had last night about who was here protecting who, he wisely figured that silence was best at this early hour.

Surprised, and slightly put-off at Malfoy's silence, Harry slammed back into the bathroom to dress.

* * *

"I can't do it, Potter." Malfoy whined, leaning back in his plastic-covered chair.

Harry rolled his eyes and glanced around the near-empty hotel lobby. Very few people were up at this un-Godly hour on a Saturday, especially in rural Alabama.

"Malfoy, _please_. It's just toast. Would it really taste that differently if we flooed back to your manor and had it made by house-elves?" Harry spat, exasperated with Draco's superiority act at this early hour.

Malfoy sniffed. "Yes. This jam is all wrong."

Harry sighed and fell back into his chair. "That's because it's jelly. And you're right Malfoy. It would taste differently. Do you know _why_? Because you would be _dead_!" His voice rose, and the few patrons of the hotel's breakfast nook had begun to take notice. "However, if _you_ would like to go back to the Manor for breakfast, perhaps you still have enough credibility with the Death-Eaters to persuade them to allow you to finish the bloody toast _before_ they kill you. Would you like that? Because it can be arranged!" Harry snarled.

Malfoy appraised him coolly, as if he was actually considering Harry's offer. Then he sighed, grabbed the toast, studied it, lobbed it at Harry's head, and vanished with a "pop". Harry jumped, startled, and quickly glanced around the room. A Muggle couple was staring at the spot where Draco had been sitting, their mouths open. A bit of egg had fallen out of one of their mouths. A third man was staring, while allowing his cup to overflow onto the juice bar. Sighing, Harry quickly modified their memories and raced to the elevator, praying that his charge would be in the room.

* * *

When Harry arrived at the room, he found that the hotel door would not open. After swiping his key-card desperately and getting the green light (but not an open door) several times, Harry sighed and tapped lightly on the door.

"Yes?" Draco called, his voice airy and confident.

"Malfoy…" Harry growled, struggling to keep his voice from cracking with anger. "You're being a prat. I know you don't want to be here, I don't either. But we have to be…You know what Dumbledore said. I'm not saying I like protecting you, and I sure as hell wouldn't say that you even need it…But here we are, we might as well make the best of it. Right?" Harry exhaled against the door, jiggling the handle.

Malfoy said nothing.

"Malfoy…" Harry began, as the door suddenly slammed open, banging sharply into Harry's toe. Stifling a cry and grabbing his foot, Harry leaned against the doorframe and blinked in pain at Malfoy's sneering face. Biting his lip, Harry pushed past Malfoy roughly and flopped onto his bed.

Smirking, Malfoy retreated to the bathroom and, moments later, Harry heard the shower running. Sighing and running his hand back through his hair, Harry fixed his gaze on the ceiling and considered the situation. He was more than aware that Malfoy, while acknowledging his need for protection by the Order, was not in the least happy about the situation that they had arranged. In all honesty, Harry could not fathom for the life of him why Dumbledore had stuck him as Malfoy's sole protector; it was probably the worst possible way to arrange things, considering their history. It did have to be acknowledged, however, that given said history between the rivals, as well as their location and current proximity to the wizarding world, it would be quite a feat for any Death Eaters to come even to suspect, much less locate the pair.

Harry grudgingly admitted to himself that Dumbledore _was_ usually right, and they were here strictly on orders made before he was killed. Rolling over Violently to face the wall, Harry scowled and decided that Dumbledore's wishes should be honored and trusted, by him, at least.

_I just wish I wasn't stuck in a sodding room with Malfoy…At very least we could have different rooms…_

The same could be said for the fair-haired Slytherin who had just stepped gracefully from the shower; he was not at all pleased to be here in this grimy Muggle -_hot-el_, he thought it was called- with Gryffindor's own Golden Boy. Draco scowled and toweled his hair roughly, immediately making a small "_eep_"-ing noise as he dove to the mirror to inspect for split-ends.

_This bloody Muggle-life is going to kill me...If being in such close proximity to Potter doesn't first…Or the damn rough towels._

* * *

Upon emerging from the bathroom wrapped in his towel, Malfoy immediately spotted Harry, sleeping lightly on the edge of his bed.

_That prat…he'll get his germs all over my linens!_ Draco snarled to himself.

So, in effort to appease his growing frustration and anxiety at not being allowed to act at all like his usual self, Malfoy whipped the towel from around his waist, twisted it into a braid, and unceremoniously popped Potter on the back of the head. Harry awoke with a start, emerald eyes widening and drinking in the sight set before him. Malfoy was standing between the two beds, towel in hand, whipping it around to slap him again. Naked.

Harry reacted immediately, making use of his Quidditch-bred reflexes, and somersaulted over the end of the bed. He hit the floor, rolled away from the towel that had come soaring toward his head, and ducked into the washroom. Quickly procuring a soaking towel of his own, he leaned innocently against the door frame, hiding the towel from view. Draco was standing by the telly, naked and smirking at the Gryffindor, winding his towel up for another shot at the dark-haired boy.

Harry raised his eyebrows. Malfoy snapped the towel suddenly, barely missing Harry's shoulder. Immediately, Harry reacted, lunging over Draco's bed and flipping gallantly onto his own. Malfoy's eyes widened as Harry stood, wobbling, on the fluffy bed, his green eyes daring Malfoy to continue. Malfoy began to wind the towel around his hands, and Harry lunged. His silver eyes widened, and he leapt to the side, attempting to hide between his bed and the wall. The Slytherin's seeker reflexes were for naught, though, as Harry had expected this, and adjusted accordingly. He landed directly on top of the surprised Slytherin, and quickly yanked his towel away, using it to tie the gaping blonde's hands behind his back.

Harry stood and smirked down at Malfoy. "And _that,_ my pretty Slytherin, is why I am the Boy-Who-Lived."

Malfoy glared, but, being naked and without the use of his hands, could think of no appropriate response.

"Just…just untie me, okay Potter?" The blonde spluttered.

"Let's hear you say that I win…" Harry goaded.

"No! It was completely unfair, I was at a total disadvantage!" Draco wailed, thrashing in a half-hearted attempt to free himself.

"Hmm…" The black-haired boy mused. "I think…not."

Draco growled at him, even going so far as to snap his straight, white teeth in Harry's direction. Then, with one languid movement involving some very interesting hip twisting (not that Harry was watching), Draco was on his feet standing in front of Harry, sneering just inches from his nose. Somehow, in his graceful move to stand, Malfoy had managed to slip backwards through the towel that bound him, so that his hands were now in front of him. Harry gaped at the blonde's obvious agility. When, in between his pampered home-life and his service to Voldemort, had he learned to _move_ like that? In fact, Harry thought, it had been rather like watching a very graceful dancer perform…

Harry was jerked out of his musings when Malfoy threw the knotted towel into his face. Then, turning quickly on his heels, the silver-eyed boy made his was to his suitcase and grabbed his clothing, which he began to don with the same grace as he had just shown in escaping Harry's bonds.

* * *


	2. Ch 2:  Insults and Insecurities

**Chapter 2: Insults and Insecurities **

Harry sank on to the bed and watched the agile Slytherin dress. He wondered vaguely how someone who could not deign to go unnoticed like Malfoy could move as though he was an extremely silent, meticulous dancer. Lying back onto the comforter and putting his hands under his head, Harry suddenly decided that enough was enough. If Malfoy was to be entrusted to his care for Merlin-knew-how-long, then he at least was going to make an attempt at a truce.

"Malfoy. We need to talk." Harry sighed, sitting up suddenly and leaning back against the wall.

"I'll say we do Potter, you bloody pouf. I saw how you were watching me. Is there something I should know before spending another night in close proximity to you?" the blonde sneered.

Harry rolled his eyes and clasped his arms around his knees, trying to hold in the sudden rush of anger that he felt at Malfoy's words.

"Malfoy. Be serious. We have a problem because you don't respect me, and I'm only doing what I think is right. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Dumbledore's orders. And neither would you. The difference is, I would be happily off somewhere with my mates, fighting Voldemort, and you would be dead. I'm only here because The Order –and, in turn, I- feel as if it is our duty to…"

"Bloody Hell, Potter, you sound like my last girlfriend." Draco sneered. "I don't respect you.' Honestly! Of course I don't. I never have. And I think you have it all wrong. They only used me as an excuse to get you from under their skin. Can you imagine how much easier it is, now that they don't all have to worry about whether precious Potter makes it through the night? Trust me Potty, they're glad you're gone."

Harry gaped at him. "I…but…they would never…"

Draco just smiled and tapped his head. "Think about it, Potter." Harry glared at him, and rolled over to face the wall.

"Ahem." The blonde coughed.

Harry looked back over his shoulder, arching his eyebrow.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"You're on my bed, Potter."

"Ahh…both beds are exactly the same, Malfoy. Just lay on the other one."

"No."

"And why not?" Harry sat up, becoming irritated.

Malfoy smirked and gestured to Harry's bed across the room.

"Your bed has inferior sheets."

"Malfoy. Be realistic. Both beds are in the same room of the same hotel, ergo they have the same sheets." Harry explained patiently.

"No. My thread count is higher by 10. I counted this morning." Malfoy whined.

The Gryffindor stood and began to walk towards the door.

"Erm, Potter, where are you going?" Draco whined, his voice suddenly devoid of self-pity.

"Out."

"But…you're supposed to be keeping an eye on me, right? What if…while you're gone…" Malfoy babbled, looking a bit worried now.

Harry shrugged, threw Draco the room key, and stormed from the room.

"Potter!...POTTER!...Potter?" Malfoy boomed.

The room was very still and quiet in Harry's absence, and Draco climbed into the middle of the bed, drawing his legs around him and casting nervous glances at the window and closet.

"Erm…Harry?" he squeaked.

* * *

Harry stalked down the hall towards the elevators, fuming. 

_How dare he take advantage of my protection?! There are a hundred things I could be doing other than hiding in America with a spoiled child! He doesn't even deserve this! We should have just let Voldemort have him and be done with it…_

Walking quickly towards the trees on the side of the hotel, Harry became more and more engrossed in his angry thoughts. When he finally reached a clearing in the woods, he stopped and slid down to the ground, his back against a tree, to think.

* * *

Harry woke with a start, gradually acknowledging the blackening woods around him. Judging by the darkness, Harry guessed that he had been gone for around four hours. He felt a bit odd, like he had been dreaming and not sleeping at all…And sort of as if he was forgetting something… 

_Draco!_

Jumping to his feet, he began to run towards the hotel, dodging nimbly between trees and under branches. He raced toward the back door of the hotel, and yanked it open.

Or not.

He glanced in the windows, and saw the receptionist watching him curiously from inside the lobby. She gave him a shrug, and pointed to a large sign hanging on the wall, barely visible from the door.

**All hotel patrons MUST, for the safety of others, be inside by 9:00p.m. or have their **

**room key to be granted access after the aforementioned time.**

**Thanks, Mmgt.**

Harry dug furiously in his pockets for several minutes before remembering that he had thrown the key card at Malfoy before leaving the room earlier. Sighing, Harry leaned against the glass for a moment with his eyes closed. He had to get back to Draco. Even if he was vehemently opposed to baby-sitting the pompous Slytherin, it was on Dumbledore's orders. Harry could not, under any circumstances bring himself to even think of disobeying. So there was nothing else for it.

The receptionist watched him suspiciously as he turned away and began walking back towards the woods. When he was absolutely sure that he was out of view, he turned quickly on his heel and squeezed his eyes shut. There was a familiar, and, this time, not all-together unpleasant, sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube; Harry hoped against hope that the sudden rushing in his head as he felt his knees give way onto solid ground had nothing to do with any suddenly absent body parts.

Looking around from the floor, he realized that he had apparated into a room somewhere in the hotel; Whether it was _his_ room remained to be seen. His wand held tightly in his clenched fist, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. Advancing further into the gloom, he suddenly stumbled. Reaching down to touch the cumbersome object, he was startled by a large snore. He quickly grasped the object, pulling it closer to his face so as to make out its shape in the limited light.

They were bunny slippers. Green bunny slippers, to be precise. Harry dropped them, and quickly, deliberately, took two steps forward and turned again, this time concentrating on a mental image of a bathroom containing _his_ toothbrush. Seconds later, he found himself on the hard tile of a bathroom floor, feeling as though his kneecaps might be shattered. Glancing around, he sighed with relief as he spotted both his and Malfoy's toothbrush in a holder by the sink.

Opening the door slightly, Harry stepped gingerly out into the darkness and was greeted by small snores coming from the direction of his bed.

_Lumos_

In the dim light emitting from his wand, Harry could see Draco's tousled blonde hair spilling over his pillows. He was lying on his side, curled up almost to the fetal position, and was shivering slightly, he brow furrowed and his lips slightly parted. Advancing towards the sleeping boy, Harry pulled a blanket from the other bed and wrapped it around his sleeping form. Harry stiffened as Draco unconsciously rolled toward the indention that his knee had made in the bed. Only from this distance could Harry see the trails of recently dried tears on the blondes face, seemingly set aflame by the soft light from Harry's wand.


	3. Chapter 3:  Dreams and Revelations

Hey guys!

I suppose I should warn you that there is a bit of OOC/Draco in this Chap. Well, I actually think that he _could_ act like this, given the right ahem persuasions, but I doubt JK would agree for the purposes of her story...sigh

Note This story will be discontinued after the 7th book is released, due to the fact that, in all likelyhood, the author will have a complete mental breakdown if JK kills either Harry or Draco...

Just Kidding. But only about the "discontinued" part. I really will have a nervyB...

** 3**K10**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Dreams and Revelations **

Harry jolted awake suddenly, and was quite disoriented. Not disoriented enough, however, to abandon his instinct to draw his wand and sit bolt upright in his bed. Consciousness began to slowly seep it's way back into Harry's sleep-deprived brain, and he realized that no, Voldemort hadn't captured him, no, he wasn't about to be tortured, and in fact, he was exactly where he had been when he had gone to sleep six hours before. However, as soon as Harry had surmised this, there came a disturbing noise from his right. A moaning, choking sort of noise.

_Lumos_

In the soft glow from his wand, Harry could see Malfoy thrashing about in the other bed. Occasionally, he let out a piteous cry that sounded like a half-moan, half-animal yelp. He could barely make out intermittent mumbles, which slowly stumbled from the pale boy's lips. Jolting finally to lay on his back, Draco's eyes snapped open, and the boy grabbed the covers by his sides, grasping and tugging them in fear.

"No. Mum! Please! Tell him that…tell him that I'm coming back! I'll do anything…I'll take you're place, it's me he wants anyway, Mum! I'll do anything…I'm coming home to save you, I promise…!" The frightened blonde boy was screaming now, wailing, emotion catching his words in the back of his throat.

Harry watched, eyes wide, as Draco's eyes roamed about the room, gradually permeating the dream haze and soaking in reality. Suddenly, the silver orbs flicked towards Harry, catching his emerald eyes in an emotional stare. Reality seemed to hit the Slytherin.

Shaking his head, as if to clear the last remnants of the dream, Malfoy spluttered

"How…How long have you been sitting there, Potter…?"

Harry gaped at him, and slowly brought his wand to his side, extinguishing its glow.

Malfoy sighed, sat up, and ran his hands through his sleep addled blonde hair. Then, his head was in his hands and he was sobbing. Moonlight raked over his body, throwing his heaving silhouette into sharp relief. Harry was astounded, but slowly made his way over to the other boy's bed and sat heavily beside him. It was awkward, really, and Harry wasn't quite sure what was to be expected of him. After a brief inner battle, he simply wrapped his arms around the sobbing blonde and brought him into his chest, already feeling Malfoy's tears dripping down his arms.

"Pott…Harry…I…he's going to kill them. If I don't…If I don't go back and give myself up. I…I have to go home, Harry. I can't let my Mum suffer for my mistakes…You have to take me back…" Draco sobbed, his arms now anchored firmly around Harry's shoulders, silver eyes squeezed tightly shut against Harry's night shirt. Harry made "shush"-ing noises, and rocked the sobbing boy softly.

"Draco…I can promise you that for the time being, your parents are very safe. Remember, your father is in Azkaban. No danger there. He and your mother are still firm Voldemort supporters, and he needs all of the support he can get right now. He's not going to kill your parents, Draco. I would know if he even so much as _thought_ about it, I can still feel his emotions. I would know. And I wouldn't let him. We would go back, and we would help them. Even if it meant me giving my life, Draco, I promise you that I would go back." Harry murmured into the blonde's soft hair.

He was vaguely surprised at the words that were coming out of his own mouth. Would he really do that? Give his life to save that of two Death-Eaters, and an (extremely frightened) Ex-Death-Eater? One glance at the boy holding him, this blonde God bathed in moonlight, was enough to answer that question. He would. In an instant. How could he not?

The blonde lifted his eyes to look into Harry's and sniffled. His embrace suddenly grew tighter around the Gryffindor, then, a second later, his arms were gone from around Harry's shoulders, and he laid back in the spill of moonlight, his hair shimmering and fanning around his pale, pointed face. And he was asleep. Just like that. Harry brushed a strand of blonde hair from his face, stood up, and walked back to his bed. Once he heard Draco's deep, even breathing, Harry permitted his mind to buzz with questions.

* * *

When Harry awoke several hours later, he was not surprised to find Draco awake and dressed, sitting with his feet propped up on the table again. Harry paused before rising, trying to think of an appropriate response after last night's situation. He needn't have worried; Malfoy was not the sort to want to bring into light his own emotional weaknesses if he thought he could get away with it.

As Harry stood and began to make his way to the bathroom, he could feel Malfoy's gaze on his back. But this time, it felt different. There was no malice in his stare, just a profound, unequivocal confusion.

* * *

Harry sighed with relief and let the tepid water run over his face. He was glad that Draco had chosen not to mention the morning's events, as it would hardly do for the blonde to think that Harry was such an emotional pushover.

_Gods, I am so weak. Just a few tears, even from my enemy, and I'm stumbling all over myself to do whatever it is that he wants…Hopefully Voldemort never comes crying to me, I may just offer myself up on a silver platter_…

The dark-haired boy scowled, disgusted with himself. Then again, he supposed he wouldn't have felt any better if he had allowed Malfoy to cry…and he would certainly have gotten less sleep.

_Yea, because you would have lain over in your bed all night, feeling like a prick if you hadn't comforted him…_ His conscience goaded.

_But… That's just loyalty, patience and all of that good Gryffindor stuff…it's ingrained in my thinking…I have to help others! That's just what Gryffindors do for one another!_ He snapped back at his conscience.

_Ahem…Slytherin? _The sneaky voice retorted, before fleeing from Harry's head.

Though it was hard to admit even that to himself, Harry eventually arrived at the conclusion that his actions this morning were necessary and very imperative to his and Draco's continued mutual survival. And they had _nothing_ to do with the fact that seeing the blonde cry had come very close to ripping Harry's heart in two.

* * *

When he emerged from the shower, Malfoy was standing in front of the window, curtains drawn back with his hand. He seemed to be deep in thought, and his face was skewed as if he was having an internal argument much like Harry's. Not wanting to startle the boy but needing his attention, Harry laid a hand on the blondes shoulder. Malfoy did not give any sign that he felt Harry's hand, except by removing his own from the curtains, allowing the room to shift into a slate colored shade.

The blonde turned, shrugged off Harry's hand, and headed toward the bathroom. Harry cleared his throat and Malfoy turned back to him, pale eyebrows arched.

"Yes?"

"We…have to leave." Harry sighed, running his hand through his damp hair.

Malfoy appraised him coolly, his silver eyes sweeping over the black-haired boy's face. Harry could see a momentary flash of lurching fear behind the normally placid eyes.

"It's just…I had to apparate back in here last night, and…I think that it would be better if we…moved on. Just in case."

Malfoy looked curious, which, in Harry's opinion, caused a dramatic change to take place in his facial features. Instead of looking like a statue, a clone of his father, he looked vaguely approachable. Harry's mind flashed immediately back to Malfoy's face this morning, when he was crying in his arms, soaked in moonlight. When he was animate, Harry decided, Malfoy wasn't so bad…

"You apparated in here last night? But…why? I thought you would just sleep in the car, or something…" Malfoy questioned.

"Well, I couldn't very well leave you in here alone, now could I?" Harry snapped, suddenly irritated. "And you should be glad that I did, because if this morning was any indication, you need me more than you think you do. Don't you _Draco_?"

Malfoy gaped at him, his mouth opening slightly and then snapping closed.

"I…how dare you! I just…had a...erm…that is…Nobody asked you to comfort me, Potter!" Malfoy exploded, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Draco…I…I can only tell you that I know how you feel. I can't make you not hate me, but I can tell you that I know how it feels to wake up sweating and screaming and knowing…just _knowing_…that your dream is reality, that somewhere someone is dying, and it's all your fault. I know, Draco. I'm sorry. I thoughtI could help, but apparently all I've done is make things worse. But I'm here for you, whether either of us wants me to be. So let's just make the best of this, and I promise you that, from now on, when ever you accidentally exhibit emotion unfitting a Slytherin, I'll just turn my head and pretend like I don't see it. Because Merlin forbid that we ever try to make this work, try to be acquaintances at least!" Harry exploded, gesticulating wildly in rage.

The blonde's eyes were wide, staring at the usually submissive Gryffindor in shock. Harry could see thoughts flicking around behind his lovely silver eyes, trying to grasp what Harry had just said.

_Acquaintances?! Who does this pathetic Gryffindor think I am, a blood-traitor like Weasley? He must be joking! I could never degrade my family, my honor, by being seen with "The Chosen One"…_ His father's voice sneered, seeming to echo from the depths of Azkaban.

_Not that any of that matters anymore…the entire wizarding world is halfway across the globe and Har…Potter is your only chance to get out of this mess alive…Unless you want him to turn you over to the Dark Lord…That's always a possibility, you know Draco…he could just leave you for dead and run for his own life, like he should be doing anyway. That's what __**you**__ would do, Draco…But he isn't. He's risking his life for you, and you're too selfish to see it…_Draco's conscience breathed in his ear.

Draco sighed, flicked his hair out of his eyes, and conjured chairs for both of them. (Oak chairs with velvet coverings, thank-you-very-much) The blonde sank backwards, propping his feet up on Harry's bed.

"Let's…Let's talk about this, okay, Potter?"


	4. Chapter 4:Discussions with a DeathEater

**Chapter 4: Discussions with a Death-Eater**

Harry sank back into one of the very comfortable chairs the Draco had conjured. He was slightly nervous, mostly because he had never had a civil conversation with Draco Malfoy in his life, and had never even spoken to the boy of his own volition. He privately thought that it would be less awkward on both of their parts if Draco was to start chucking things at him, considering that that was how most of their interactions began.

"So." Draco said cheerily, crossing his arms and tossing his hair back with a jerk of his head.

Harry eyed him warily, not sure what to expect at this point. Eventually he realized that Draco expected him to start the conversation, and sighing, he began his best attempts at an introduction. But how do you introduce a civil conversation with someone you've always hated?

"Um…well, I…you see…I…" Harry stammered, quite aware that he had no idea how to have an actual conversation with the blonde God sitting across from him.

Draco cocked his eyebrow in amusement.

"As usual, it is up to the articulate Malfoy to begin the conversation. Now, now, Potter, don't take offence. You do have to admit that I have a way with words…" Malfoy smirked.

Harry began to scowl, but noticed that Draco's smirk was totally devoid of it's usually arrogance. He rolled his eyes.

"Yea, well. You may have a way with words, but I have a way with my wand, a fact that you owe your life to." Harry grinned, finally finding his voice.

Draco inclined his head slightly. "Touché, Potter, I suppose I can give you some of the credit. But you must admit that my devilishly good looks –and excellent hair- could have been partially responsible, don't you think?" His silver eyes danced, all the while searching the green ones of the boy across from him for traces of laughter. When Harry blushed slightly, Draco looked pleased and continued.

"So how shall we do this? I know you have questions about me, and I you. Are you prepared to answer whatever I may ask honestly? If not, we are wasting our time, as I don't care much for being lied to."

"Fair enough. You begin." Harry assented, tapping his fingers against the velvet impatiently.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Why _everything,_ Potter? Why did you agree to this? Why didn't you leave me here alone the first time I upset you? Why are you so willing to make sure that I not only survive, but that I'm relatively comfortable in the process?" Draco gushed.

"Malfoy, that was more than one question…" Harry laughed. "But I suppose it can count as one. I agreed to this at first solely because it was what Dumbledore wanted. Same goes for leaving you. I knew that, even though he is no longer alive, it would be somewhat of a disgrace to his memory if I didn't carry out his orders. I can't say that I was particularly _happy_ about it at first, but there was nothing I could do. Finally I came to the conclusion that it would be better to try to coexist peacefully with you rather than have to worry that I would find myself sprouting tentacles every morning."

Malfoy nodded slowly, obviously thinking, and muttered something that sounded vaguely like "Bloody valiant Gryffindors…"

"My turn." Harry said quickly. "What was that dream all about? Particularly the clinging to me that night and then ignoring me like usual the next morning bit. If you don't mind my saying, that was pretty disconcerting Draco."

The blonde looked troubled, and slid farther down into the chair.

"I should have known you would ask that first, Potter. As you've probably deduced, my rather sudden departure from the ranks of Death-Eaters was necessary after my failure to do away with Dumbledore as I was ordered. But when Voldemort assigned me the task at the beginning of 6th year, he made it perfectly clear that I was not to fail. To do so would cost me not only my life, but the lives of my family and the one closest to me. At the time, this hardly bothered me. I was quite confident that it would be merely a…" Draco grimaced, his immaculate features scrunching together. "…'wave of a wand', if you will. I was mistaken, obviously. This is hardly surprising, considering my rather…er…limited childhood experience in what goes on in the real world of Death-Eaters. So I did the only thing I could. I went to the Order, who promised their protection, and disappeared. I was allowed to stay at Grimmauld Place for a while, which was lucky. If I hadn't been related to the Black family, I would have been tossed out unceremoniously by the house's enchantments. Then, three days ago, Snape comes, tells me to pack quickly, and apparates me to this very room.

"Needless to say, I have been very concerned for my mother…My father, not so much. He is an accomplished wizard, as well as an important part of Voldemort's inner circle. I doubt that he will personally take the fall for what happened. My mother, however…" Draco shivered. "I doubt she will escape lightly. The worst part is that it's my fault." He looked imploringly into Harry's green eyes. "Harry, do you have any idea how it feels to go to sleep in a comfortable bed every night, knowing that the one person Voldemort fears is lying not five feet away, protecting you, while the people that _you_ put in danger are in ever-present peril because of a stupid mistake that you made?" A tear leaked out of the corner of his silver eye. "That's the worst feeling in the world, Harry. The very worst." Draco sniffed, and put his head in his hands.

Harry stared at the silently crying boy, and had a sudden urge to embrace him as he had earlier. Draco wiped furiously at the tears, as if they had personally betrayed him to Voldemort. Harry rightly surmised that, at this point, it was best to allow the last portion of his question to go unanswered, but couldn't help but pointing out…

"You called me Harry." The Gryffindor said pointedly.

Draco looked up, his eyes swimming, and smiled.

"You called me Draco."

* * *

Yes, I know...It was pretty dull, but very necessary. Next one will be better, I promise. . 


	5. Chapter 5: Dumbledore's Advice

Hey Guys!

I know this one's a bit short, but it's sorta a revolutionary point in the story, so I couldn't give everything away at once, now could I? .

Enjoy!

K10

* * *

**Chapter 5: Dumbledore's Advice**

Harry gaped at the sniffling (but obviously attempting to not smile for all he was worth) blonde sitting across from him. After simply staring for a moment, he let out a breath that he _totally_ realized he had been holding, and shakily attempted to continue the conversation after the very pregnant silence.

"Well. Ok. So. Any suggestions as to where we should hide next? Any particular Muggle landmarks that you've ever had a desire to see?"

Malfoy grinned stupidly at Harry and rocked back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head.

"Potter." He said flatly, his eyes giving away his obvious jubilation. "I am in the middle of a Muggle country that has never held any particular appeal to me, with a boy whom I thought would hold even less. I have just discovered that the country is good for at least one thing, obviously, since the Death-Eaters haven't rumbled our sorry asses yet. The boy, well, he's pretty much a prat, but I think I may just like him anyway. In short, everything's just about as buggered as it could possibly get at the moment."

Harry grinned at the blonde.

"So, in short, you really could care less where we go as long as I'm there to save your sorry ass if Voldemort decides to come looking?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Draco snickered.

* * *

Harry Potter was having a problem. It was one he should have foreseen, one he had been warned against since his very first conversation with Dumbledore. Harry, however, being the valiant, brave, _noble_ Gryffindor that he was, had never taken heed of his Headmaster's words. And now, he was paying dearly.

Sighing, he ran his hand through his messy black hair, desperately trying to sweep it out of his eyes. He was frustrated. But he really couldn't feign ignorance, Dumbledore had always said…

Suddenly there was a small pop sound, which had emitted from somewhere inside of his suitcase. Throwing the scarlet and gold bag open, he quickly dove his hand into the jumble of clothes and searched around distractedly. Finally, he grasped a wooly object and pulled it jubilantly from the mess. His heart sank as he discovered that he was holding a green sock. A _left_ green sock. Harry sighed and dropped the sock, but before it could hit the moldy blue colored floor of the hotel room, it vanished with a pop.

Glancing up quickly, Harry caught sight of Draco, leaning against the far wall and lazily twirling both his wand and Harry's sock between his nimble fingers. The Slytherin smirked.

" Draco…" Harry said, frowning. "Have…have you vanished all of my right socks…?"

Draco immediately burst out laughing, the unimpeded peals of laughter causing his normally stoic mask to crumble. Sliding down the wall, clutching Harry's sock and his side, Draco's his face shone with mirth. Harry ogled for a moment at the perfection that was completed by the blonde's delighted expression, before finding the humor in the situation himself and bursting out with unrestrained peals of laughter.

"Potter…" Draco gasped, tears of mirth streaming down his face. "You …you should have see your bloody face…racing around here trying to…'Have you vanished all of my right socks?'…" Malfoy was lying on the floor, giggling girlishly and clutching his aching side and Harry's "missing" socks.

Harry stood, still laughing, and wiped his running eyes. Striding over to where the blonde was still rolling around on the floor in glee, he looked down in amusement.

"My socks, Draco?" Harry demanded, arching his eyebrow in a very Malfoy-ish way.

"No!" Malfoy squeaked and rolled onto his stomach, still clutching the socks under him.

"And why, may I ask, do you need_ all_ of my right socks?"

"I'm starting a collection." The Slytherin snorted. "I was actually thinking of getting Voldemort to donate a few."

Harry chuckled and held his hand out expectantly.

"Wait…wait." Malfoy flipped back over onto his back and looked up at the black-haired boy. "Does…does Voldy even _wear_ socks?"

Harry snorted with laughter and ran his hand through his unruly hair. Malfoy smirked gently and curled onto his side, clasping the socks to his chest tightly and scrunching his eyes closed in anticipation of Harry's retaliation. It struck Harry how adorable _this_ Draco was, how unlike his normal emotionless self the boy was being. And how totally that difference changed his opinion of his old rival. Malfoy opened his eyes slightly and glanced at Harry. The Gryffindor's heart did a bit of a gymnastics routine in his chest.

Harry held his hand back towards the boy. Malfoy smirked, grabbed Harry's hand, and suddenly pulled him down to the floor. The black-haired boy landed awkwardly, sprawled across the floor, his face mere inches from Draco's pale, pointed nose.

Harry opened his eyes slowly to find Malfoy watching him intently, eyes half-closed, and smirking, still holding on to the socks for all he was worth. Harry gulped, him mind wandering to thoughts that were very dangerous in themselves, not to mention when he was this close to the boy who was a central, erm, _point_, in them.

Suddenly, Malfoy rolled, pushed himself up into the perfect push-up position, jumped up, and sprinted quickly into the bathroom. Slightly dazed, Harry sat up and glanced toward his suitcase. All of his socks had returned, folded smartly on top, along with all of his other neatly folded clothes. Harry heard the shower turn on, and Malfoy sigh.

"By the way Harry," Malfoy called from the bathroom. "You really should consider getting some expensive underwear. Those would have been much more fun to hide…"

Harry smiled to himself. Maybe Dumbledore had been right. One never really could have enough socks…


	6. Chapter 6: Lips, Lights, and Slap Fights

Hey Guysss!

First off, sorry for the unacceptable delay…I'm in the midst of a move to Florida, reading the new book, as well as some family issues, so I've been a bit busy. Thanks for understanding.

I think I should probably do a bit of an OOC-ness warning, but I am so corrupted from reading FanFics that I don't really think to put one up usually…It's just a bit more prevalent in this chappie, but still, it's all in good fun!

Love, K10

* * *

**Chapter 6: Lips, Lights, and Slap Fights**

Sometime after lunch, both boys had finally agreed upon a destination. Harry had always been eager to see Tennessee, and Draco was enthralled by the country music, so it was decided. The whole day was spent in the car as, after Harry's hotel room mishap, neither thought it wise to attempt apperation. The dismally long trip was spent in surprisingly companionable silence, aside from a brief spat over the radio at one point when Harry attempted to dissuade Draco's newfound country music obsession. However, neither had realized just how "companionable" they would have to soon be.

"Bloody hell Harry, there's only one bed. And it's the size of a sodding cot!" Draco observed incredulously upon entering the hotel room.

Harry, momentarily stumped, finally allowed his fatigue to get the better of him.

"Well…we can share a bed for one night, then tomorrow I can book us a different room with two beds." The Gryffindor offered.

Malfoy looked at him as if he had just sprouted a tail.

"Potter. I am not sleeping with you. Just go tell the manager that we want a new room."

"Draco, this is the middle of Nashville, one of the biggest cities in Tennessee, and we are here during tourist season. It also happens to be midnight. There are no other rooms. I had to pay nearly double for this one!" Harry snapped.

"Tell them it's for a Malfoy."

Harry snorted. "Yea. You'd be better off trying to get one on your good looks."

The blonde looked scandalized, and immediately leapt over to the mirror and began to preen, as if his appearance might have somehow been unfavorably altered in the fifteen minutes. (He had been fixing his hair in the reflection of the hotel receptionist's desk when they arrived) When he realized it hadn't, he turned to scowl at the brunette boy.

"Just what…" He began.

But Harry had already crossed the room and began to undress. Malfoy decided to do likewise, if only because he needed a distraction from the –very unpleasantly- pleasant tingling that had suddenly begun in his groin area. Ripping his shirt off violently, he flopped onto the tiny bed and rolled towards the wall. Harry, who was suddenly feeling a bit awkward about this entire situation, slowly made his way over to the bed and lay down, so close to the edge that he thought he might fall off.

"G'night Harry." Draco muttered, while stifling a yawn simultaneously.

"'Nite Draco." Harry murmured, sleep already overtaking his travel-worn brain.

"Are you gonna get that light?" The blonde sleepily enquired, his voice muffled from the pillow that was now over his face.

"Can you? I'm really comfortable, surprisingly." Harry replied.

"Yea…"

Draco leaned over toward the light, his body slightly crushing the smaller boy in the process.

"Gerroff me!" Harry mumbled, his face pressed into Draco's side.

"You said turn off the light!"

"But I didn't say to lay on me!"

"Well, it's hard not to." The blonde smirked.

"What is THAT supposed to mean?"

"It means that unless you grant me a few seconds of touching the precious "Chosen One", we will have to sleep with the light on!" Draco retorted, by now furious that his beauty-sleep was being interrupted for such a mundane matter.

"Fine. Hurry Up." Harry conceded, allowing Draco to lean over him once more.

"AGH! Your feet are cold." The dark-haired boy jumped up suddenly, sitting bolt upright in the bed and almost causing Draco to flail his way onto the floor.

"…Look, do you just want to sleep on the floor?" The bleary-eyed Slytherin sighed.

"No, I want YOU to sleep on the floor!" Harry snapped, very put-out.

"No. Malfoy's do not sleep on _floors_. But I'll turn the light on for you if you have to get up in the middle of the night. I'm good at turning stuff on. I'm good at screwing in light bulbs too. And carpentry, I'm great at that! I can nail really well…"

"…………….." Malfoy smirked as he saw Harry's face turn a deep shade of Gryffindor scarlet.

"What?"

"…………….."

"Potter, are you asleep?" Malfoy asked suspiciously.

"No. But I would be if you would shut up for four seconds, AND TURN THE SODDING LIGHT OFF WITHOUT MAKING IT INTO SOME SORT OF TWISTED INNUINDO!"

"….you're very grumpy at night, you know that Potter?" Draco snickered.

"Draco. _Please_ just turn off the bloody light, while making an honest effort to touch me as little as possible." Harry sighed, trying to keep his heartbeat in check as the blonde God leaned across him once more. He was sure Draco would be able to hear it…As if the growing bulge in his pants wasn't hard enough to control…

"Fine. Hold still for a moment."

Harry concentrated on keeping his breathing steady.

"…There's nowhere to turn it off."

"WHADDYA MEAN!?" Harry screamed, distressed, from under Draco's chest. He blushed, realizing that his surliness was less because of his annoyance at Draco, and more because of the fact that Draco's leg was _very_ close to Harry's, well…erm…

"There. Is. No. Light. Switch. Potter." The blonde drawled, looking slightly amused from atop Harry's chest.

Harry sighed. "Well, does that mean you can get off of me now?" He said, nervously, as Draco's leg began to slide upward slightly…

"Oh, right, sorry…" The blonde muttered, falling back onto his side of the bed.

"Well, we'll sleep with the light on." Draco observed.

"Fine. Night." Harry said quickly.

Draco began snoring so quickly that Harry rather wondered if he wasn't trying to make fun of him. Deciding to worry less about Draco, and more about the _issue_ he had caused in the Gryffindor's pants, Harry rolled onto his side and tried to think non-Draco Malfoy-ish thoughts. A few minutes later, Harry heard Draco roll suddenly into the wall. Apparently, he had flung his hand up as well, because a few seconds later Harry heard a distinct "whop" sound as hand and wall connected.

The blasted light went off, waking Draco up.

Harry sighed and slapped his face in frustration. The light came back on.

Draco, meanwhile, was laying very still, his face contorted in a poor attempt to restrain his laughter.

Harry looked murderous, which caused Draco to laugh even harder.

The blonde suddenly poked Harry in the side, causing him to fall off of the bed with a loud "THUMP". The light went off.

Draco propped himself up on his elbow and peered over the edge of the bed. Harry was lying on his back, glaring up at the Slytherin. Draco smirked.

"Decided to sleep on the floor, aye Potter?"

Harry, who had had enough of the entire ordeal (especially the way the Draco was saying his name and looking at him with his eyebrow arched suggestively) brought his hand around and slapped the smirking blonde. Cue light on.

The Slytherin looked shocked, but immediately drug Harry back onto the bed and slapped his shoulder. The light went off. Harry groped around in the darkness for a moment, before coming in contact with Draco's leg. He slapped. The blonde hissed in pain, and the light came back on.

Two minutes later found the boys racing around the room, slapping and occasionally slamming each other into various objects. The light was flickering on and off randomly, and several distinct crashes and curses could be heard during the dark periods. Draco, at one point, was wobbling unsteadily on the table top, and next moment Harry had lunged across the room in the darkness, causing them both to crash to the floor.

Suddenly, Harry had the distinct feeling of being watched. Pausing in his pursuit of the blonde (who was now using a chair to block Harry's aggressive attacks), he turned slowly towards the window. Outside in the blackness, two Muggle children and a dog were standing, staring at the two boys romping around the room and the blinking light. As soon as they realized they had been spotted, the children immediately ran, crying. Harry thought he could faintly hear one screaming something about magic flashing lights.

He snorted at the irony, and whipped around in an attempt to locate Draco and seek his revenge.

The Slytherin was lying in bed, snoring peacefully.

Harry awoke suddenly to the feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He opened his eyes slowly, fully aware that someone (or something) was watching him. He glanced quickly around the room, swiftly taking in the light streaming onto the carpet from the rumpled blinds, the overturned table with the two straight-backs wicker chairs, and the door leading to the bathroom. Nothing seemed to be _that _out of the ordinary, yet…

Swiftly whipping his head around to face the wall behind him, Harry's eyes immediately met the silvery ones of Draco Malfoy. Glaring at the cheerfully grinning Slytherin, Harry threw back the duvet and began to stand. Suddenly, Draco's arm flopped haphazardly over Harry's stomach, effectively pulling him back onto the bed with a "whumph." Turning his head slightly, Harry glared at the jubilantly grinning teen. Malfoy raised one eyebrow and smirked. The Gryffindor's breath hitched in this throat, as he willed his body and thoughts to remain composed in light of the blonde's sexy smile.

Draco, totally conscious of the emotional havoc he was wreaking on the raven-haired boy, allowed his hand to flutter momentarily on Harry's chest before reaching up to cup his face. Harry gulped nervously but made no move to distance himself from the blonde, his emerald eyes still entwined with Malfoy's quicksilver ones. Draco leaned forward, now mere inches from rubbing noses with the Savior of the Wizarding World, still holding said Savior's startled gaze.

The account of what happened next varies immensely, depending on whom you ask. Draco says that Potter was finally overcome with a bout of the famous Gryffindor courage. Harry says that he was suddenly confounded, or possibly just tricked by the suave Slytherin's beautiful eyes. Either way you take it, the fact of the matter is that Harry Potter leaned forward and pressed…well, not so much pressed as c_rashed_ his lips into Draco's.

Being a Malfoy, and thereby knowing an opportunity when it arose, Draco slipped his hand quickly into the messy brown hair and pulled the other boy towards him. Harry froze, as if just realizing what had transpired in the last ten seconds, and immediacy jerked back, earning him a quick drop and a short stop off of the side of the bed. He stood, ran his hand through his hair, and glared at the smirking and (very obviously) aroused blonde on the bed. Then, spinning on his heel, he stalked toward the bathroom, throwing Draco menacing glances over his shoulder the whole way.

Draco, on whom the significance of the last minute had not been lost, sighed, adjusted himself, and picked up a shrunken copy of the Daily Prophet from the bedside table.

"You're a bloody pouf, Potter!" He called toward the bathroom door.

He then proceeded to examine the paper as if everything were completely normal.


	7. Chapter 7: In Which Snape Is a Baldy

Hey Guys!

Um, well, Harry is a bit angsty at the beginning...sorry. He gets over it though, and I rather think that I make up for any disappointments that you may have by the end. D

Oh, severe fun is made of one Paris Hilton, so my apologies if you don't agree...

SF,

-!K!**  
**

**Chapter 7: In Which Snape is a Baldy **

Harry scrubbed his hair viciously and let out a little yelp when he yanked a few strands out by accident. Sighing, he leaned his head back into the warm shower spray and took a deep (albeit shaky) breath of the steamy air.

_**Think, Harry…Think!**_

_Ok, thinking…About white-blonde hair, silver eyes, and that famous Malfoy smirk…And the fact that I was just on the receiving end of one of said Malfoy's mind-blowing kisses..._

_**NO! No thinking about anything concerning the word "blowing". Or "Malfoy". Or "receiving end". Bad. Very, very bad, Harry.**_

Harry turned suddenly and slammed his fist into the shower wall, hard enough to draw blood and chip the moldy tile.

"Dammit!" He yelled hoarsely, pausing his exertions to watch with mild interest as his blood mixed with the powder-blue tile chips on the shower floor.

_Well, that was stupid. _His inner-Slytherin stated matter-of-factly.

Harry was momentarily disturbed to find that his inner Slytherin sounded a lot like Blaise Zambni.

_**Nooot as stupid as kissing Malfoy… **_ The Gryffindor mind-frame retorted in its prissy Hermione-esque shrill.

"Agh!" Harry bellowed. Rubbing his temples distractedly, he quickly stepped over the shower edge, grabbed a towel, and began toweling himself dry hurriedly.

_Can't even bloody well think clearly…Even my mind has gone Gryffindor-Slytherin on me! Well, I'll just…_

"Potter!" A voice roughly barked from outside of the bathroom door. Harry started, wrapped himself in the towel and opened the door slightly, peering curiously around the door face.

Severus Snape was standing in the middle of the room, robes billowing around him, looking cross. He was bald.

* * *

Harry gaped for a moment before receiving a horrid look from his ex-professor. He quickly stepped into the room, very conscious that he was half-naked and standing so not only in front of his old teacher, but also a very flustered Draco. He suddenly wished, as we all have, that Hilton towels were not so damn microscopic that they would cover no one but their name-sake properly.

* * *

Severus Snape was not a very happy man. For one, he was in America. Tennessee, to be precise. This alone was enough to send him over the edge. Unfortunately, he was also bald. A.N.--(This hair situation had come about by very unfortunate circumstance -namely that, while the author is very pro-Snape, she in full opposition of Snape's hair- but for the purpose of this story, we shall suffice it to say that the accident involved a niffler and a glamour-potion gone wrong. D)

"Morning, Potter." Snape sighed, while thinking evil thoughts about the author and her over-active imagination and immediate obsession with nifflers.

"I suppose you are wondering why I am standing in the middle of your hotel room at this unreasonable hour." He sneered at Harry, and then turned his gaze on Draco, who was staring rather unabashedly at the very pale, shiny dome that was Snape's head.

Harry choked back a laugh and shared a glance with Draco before responding.

"Am I to take it that this means we are needed back at Headquarters, sir?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say you are _needed_, Potter. You always have had an un-healthy opinion of yourself…But yes, the Order feels, in light of new discoveries concerning Voldemort's where-abouts as well as the acquisition of a new headquarters, that you should return. You will begin packing immediately, and spend tonight at the Malfoy Manor. Remus or I will come for you tomorrow morning to escort you to the new headquarters. That is all."

And, with a twirl of his cloaks, Snape had gone.

"Just like him, to leave us wondering after the safety of our friends and family. He could have given us news, you know he knows!" Harry said angrily to no one in particular.

Harry stalked around the room in search of clothes, fuming. Finally coming across a pair of his blue jeans, he angrily pulled them on and reached for the deep green shirt slung over the back of the nearest upright chair. Draco watched, bemused, as the raven-haired boy turned his back to the blonde and pulled the shirt on roughly, further mussing his already tangled hair.

"What, going to tell me off for wearing your shirt, Malfoy? Well, maybe if you wouldn't make a habit of stealing my socks, I could get some laundry done and wouldn't have to wear your disgustingly Slytherin-green shir…"

Harry's tirade was cut off abruptly by a pair of soft lips pressing forcefully against his own. He had not heard Malfoy cross the room; however, the blonde _was_ the ever-cunning Slytherin with seeker-reflexes and stealth… He could now feel Draco's hand tangling in his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Somehow, Harry's hands hand slipped their way down to the blonde's waist without his consent. Then again, he noted, not many parts of his body were asking for permission before reacting however they liked to the current situation…

_**HARRY! What the hell are you doing!? **_His Gryffindor conscience screamed hoarsely in his ear.

_Good question, friend. But whatever the hell he may or may not be doing, it feels abso-bloody-lutely amazing…_ His inner Slytherin purred as Draco's tongue massaged his bottom lip in an effort to gain entrance into Harry's mouth.

_**No, Harry, no, no, NO, it doesn't matter how **_**right**_** it feels, this is Draco! Slytherin! Death-Eater! Got Dumbledore…**_

Harry sighed and leaned into the kiss, parting his lips slightly. He vaguely felt, rather than heard, Draco's surprised gasp against his lips as he permitted him entrance. Harry smiled slightly, and allowed his hands to resume their caressing of Draco's chest and hips. Both of the blonde's hands were now hopelessly tangled in the raven hair, and he had somehow backed Harry against the bathroom door.

Unfortunately, this is what drew Harry from his state of complete bliss, since the doorknob was how jabbing painfully into his lower back. Sliding his hands upward to the blonde's chest, he pushed backwards gently and severed the kiss, though not before nipping Draco gently on the bottom lip. The Slytherin stepped away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand surreptitiously.

"I...er…It's just…we have to go." Harry spluttered, his cheeks flaming immediately at the smirk stealing onto Draco's face.

"Potter. Do you have any idea how thoroughly _snogged_ you look right now?" the blonde sneered.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but realized that Draco was not injecting his words with their normal venom. He was…joking. Harry's stomach did a flip as he gazed at the boy in front of him, a smile spread across his pale face. The Gryffindor leaned against the wall and gazed, transfixed, at the way a simple thing such as a smile had affected Draco's already God-like features. The silver chips of ice in his eyes had melted, leaving glittering pools not unlike the surface of Dumbledore's pensieve, Harry mused…

Draco coughed quietly, and Harry started. The blonde smiled, and carefully pressed a chaste kiss to the Gryffindor's lips. He brushed a tangle of hair from Harry's eyes as he leaned away, looking slightly worried. Harry smiled.

"I'm not going to push you away again, Draco." Harry said quietly, looking bemused at the sudden, blatant display of uncertainty from the Slytherin.

"I…of course you weren't. Like you could possibly resist me after a kiss like that! Besides, we have the whole night to spend together at the Manor, so I'm not fussed." Draco drawled, looking slightly happier.

Harry leaned forward and kissed the boy quickly on the lips before nearly skipping off in search of his clothes. Draco smiled, and swept up a piece of parchment from the floor by his suitcase. Immediately, the paper swelled and became a regular sized _Daily Prophet_, complete with moving pictures. As Draco shook the paper open, a copy of _The Quibbler_ fell from between the pages. Harry dove for the magazine and swiftly began thumbing through it, his packing task forgotten for the moment.

"I guess Snape _did_ leave us news…" Harry mumbled, already engrossed in an article about a new species of animal apparently called the _Mattering Piffle_.

"You don't actually _believe_ that rubbish, do you?" Draco asked, looking at the chuckling raven-haired teen from over the top of the _Prophet. _

"Well, it's more interesting than the _Prophet_, and usually a damn sight more truthful…" Harry snorted. "Look at this, Draco. Right next to an article about Mattering Piffles…'Voldemort Known For Public Nudity'"

Draco choked and began heaving with laughter.

"Where the bloody hell do they get this?..." The laughter died and his voice trailed off.

Harry, concerned with the abrupt cessation of laughter from the blonde, lowered _The Quibbler_. Draco's face had gone the color of the paper in his hand, a sort of sickly pale-ish yellow. Harry froze, uncertain, as the other boy's silver eyes slowly slid to connect with his emerald ones. Draco swallowed once and the paper fluttered from his shaking hand. Harry jumped up, letting _The Quibbler_ fall into the chair.

"My…my Mum's dead." Draco whispered, before his knees gave way and he crumpled into Harry's arms.


	8. Chapter 8: WTH?

Hi Guys!

Ok, so I'm done with the move THANK GOD, but I picked up 3 AP classes, Honors Physics, and 6 total core classes this year, since it's senior year and I want to get out as quickly and with as much college credit as I can. I will still work on this story, it just won't be as often as I used to. I'm thinking maybe an update every two weeks for long chapters, maybe once a week for short ones. Thanks so much to all of you guys who kept checking up on the story and e-mailing, and my apologies for not posting sooner. I also apologize in advance for this chapter, as 1) I wrote it very quickly an dit may have some errors…and 2) I cried while I wrote it. It took constant consolation from my #1 Beta and a whole box of Kleenex just to get me through these two short pages, so…enjoy?

Love and tears, K10

**Chapter 8: WTH?**

When Draco Malfoy awoke, the his first coherent thought was,

"_Bloody hell, why has the world gone green?"_

Harry was hovering directly above him, his shallow, concerned breath causing Draco's blonde fringe to flutter across his pointed nose. The raven-haired boy's brows were knitted with concern, and his emerald eyes were wide and staring directly into Draco's stormy silver ones. A smile flitted momentarily across the blonde's confused features, and he pushed himself towards the releived Gryffindor.

Then reality hit.

Malfoy dropped backwards onto the bed, which, he noted immediately, felt suspiciously like his own. He scrunched his eyes closed. This was very confusing, and he felt the blackness creeping forward, threatening to drag him backwards over the abyss.

"Potter. What happened?" The blonde sighed, dreading the answer for reasons he could not fathom. "And why the bloody hell are you so close to me?"

A whirl of emotions swept through the brunette's emerald eyes, and it looked as though he was attempting to prevent a sob from escaping him. Draco frowned at him quizzically.

"What, Potter? Why are you looking at me like that? This is a very simple matter. _You_ should tell me what is going on, then _I _will ask you why the bloody hell you are laying in _my _bed in Malfoy Manor instead of the both of us being in some God-forsaken country like Snape commanded us to be. Then, lastly, I shall ask you again _why _the bloody hell you are _still_ so sodding close to me." Draco stated calmly, and with not a little sarcasm.

Harry took a deep breath.

_No, don't think about why he is acting this way. Just…go on with what you need to say, then we will fix this…_ his inner Gryfindor murmured.

"Draco…erm…_Malfoy_..." Harry began shakily, tugging his hand through his hair in agitation at reverting to surnames, "Well, do you…do you remember reading the paper? After Snape left?"

Draco's eyes narrowed into tiny marble slits.

"Yes, Potter, I do. And directly after that, I seem to recall only blackness. _What Happened_?" the blonde spat in annoyance.

"Um, do you remember anything that happened _before_?" Harry questioned meekly, bracing himself for the Slytherin's wrath.

Draco sighed, and tossed his hair back. "Potter. I'm not interested. In fact, I'm so not interested anymore that I think I may just go back to sleep. Why must you be so insufferably boring? How was I ever able to _stand _you for…however long it took to get here? How long was I alone in your dreary presence anyway? And, for that matter, why am I _still_? _Why, Potter, are you in my house?_"

"…I…" Harry begin, his mind numbing at the prospect of actually having to communicate to Draco the happenings of the last few days.

"Never mind. I might fall asleep while you are explaining. I'll just go ask Mum." Draco gave a world-weary sigh, and sat up abruptly, swinging his feet over the bedside and causing Harry to nearly stumble backwards into the fire place.

"Draco…" Harry began, but the blonde had already wrapped himself in a fluffy green robe and strode confidently from the room. Harry gulped, and, knowing nothing else for it, sat down on the bed to await the storm.

* * *

"Mum…MUM…MUM!" Draco yelled, his voice rising in tone to a horridly high pitched screech as his calls went unheeded. Being an only child, _and _a Malfoy, he was not want to be kept waiting. Ever. Even by his mother.

The blonde charged angrily through the mansion, poking his rumpled blond head into every conceivable room -even the ones that appeared only by magic- at least twice. Finally, however, he was forced to admit defeat when he came upon the room where Potter was sitting uncomfortably and in a rather unnerving silence for the third time. And, just like every other time, Potters eyes met his and the Gryffindor stared in that rather odd way of his, almost as if he pitied the Sytherin heir.

Draco sighed and stomped into the room.

"What have you done, Potter? I know this is some sort of mess that _you_ have caused, so let's hear the worst!" The blonde snarled.

Harry sighed. "You may be right about that Draco." And, with that, he thrust a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ into the blonde's clenched hands.

* * *

(A/N: sorry. I really am...I'm still crying...I'll fix it...) 


	9. Chapter 9: Beware Love, Some Irises Lie

**Chapter 9: Beware Love, Some Irises Lie…**

Draco glared at Harry.

"Potter. I ask for an explanation, and you give me a bloody newspaper? Have you gone mad?" Draco stared apprehensively at the solemn boy facing him, as if Harry might lunge at him momentarily. Instead, the raven-haired boy just gazed back with such a horrid look of misery that Malfoy sighed and shook open the paper, deciding to humor the Gryffindor.

Harry was not quite sure why he stood there. He could have left the paper on the bed, apperated to Headquarters, and had the whole night to wonder what had just happened to the last few hours of what had, too recently, been one of the best days of his life. He was, he felt, under no obligation to stay here with Malfoy acting so strangely. Though, now that he thought of it, Draco had been more normal since awaking then he had in the past few days…

This thought consoled Harry none at all and, as he watched with baited breath as the blonde's eyes skimmed the page, he wondered exactly when in the last few days he had made any connection between the Draco of yesterday and the word "normal." Though, at this point, that hardly mattered he told himself, as he watched Draco's striking silver eyes widen in shock just as they had merely a few hours before. It would do him no good to convince himself that Draco was or was not acting oddly, since sometime in the last few days he had undoubtedly fallen in love with Malfoy.

…Who was now chucking things from the bedside table at him with almost an offensive amount of bravado.

An alarm clock whistled past Harry's left ear, and the newspaper hit him squarely in the stomach. Draco was grabbing things blindly and hurling them at the Gryffindor, who, while doing his best to avoid the flying objects, was inching towards Draco. Finally, when the sobbing blonde was within arm's reach, Harry grasped the pale forearm and yanked. Draco ceased sobbing at once, and let a bowl of irises that he had been preparing to lobe spill onto the black, unruly hair. The irises scattered, a good few of them becoming instantly tangled in Harry's messy hair.

Draco's eyes narrowed and he took a step towards the Gryffindor, his jaw set. Harry willed himself not to step backwards, even though the blonde's body was now pressed to his. He could feel the body that his hands had been dying to explore so close to his, and it was killing him to not be able to brace his hands on the other boy's hips as he had done the night before…He looked up into the taller boy's marble eyes, chips of ice filled with rage.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been set, the rage vanished. Draco's eyes dilated, then became their normal pools of molten silver. Harry took an involuntary step back, confused. Then, in the mirror behind Draco, he noticed what the blonde's eyes had settled on: a single iris was wound in his ebony hair.

…_wondering vaguely if Harry knew that he had an iris stuck in his hair…_

Harry gasped, having vaguely remembered plucking an iris from his hair on another morning not so long ago…

"…Draco…?" Harry inquired softly, hoping that maybe, just _maybe_ the blonde would say something that could convince him that the events of the past days had not been an extremely believable…and extremely good…dream.

"Harry? What happened? I was…reading about my mum…and…everything was black…what…?" Draco murmured, his hand smoothing his silver hair away from his face.

"Draco, there really is no time for me to explain this to you. We have to leave. Now. There's…something in this house that's making you crazy…or not crazy, as the case may be, and I rather actually think I liked you crazy, so if you trust me at _all_, please just come with me an don't ask questions." Harry rushed, seizing Draco's slender hand in his.

Draco cocked an amused eyebrow in Harry's direction.

"Sure, Harry. I can understand how you might be uncomfortable here…we can go stay somewhere else, I mean, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable tonight…" Draco smirked, and Harry grinned in spite of himself.

"Right, so let's…"

"Harry, you have a flower in your hair." Draco murmured, and plucked the solitary iris from its roots on Harry's head.

"No! Draco! Don't…" Harry yelled, panic rising in his voice.

Draco went rigid, and his face tightened, and hardened once again into the stoic mask that made Harry's heart sink. Harry bent to retrieve the iris, but stopped. Glancing up at the taller boy, he peered intently into the icy eyes. There was nothing there. No life. No Draco. It was a look he had seen before…but where?

Suddenly, he knew. Not even stopping to be concerned with how stupid he looked, he slipped the iris back into his hair and stared into Draco's eyes, waiting. Slowly, the ice melted and he saw consciousness return.

"Draco. It's the house, that's why you can't remember. There's a charm on the house to keep you from speaking civilly with at least me, but the iris is your connection back to me since…you remember that moring... I would suspect your father…but how would he know? Draco…? How would you're father know that you would possibly be talking with me here?" Harry rushed.

Draco blushed a deep crimson. It was quite flattering, really, Harry thought, especially in contrast with his normally milky skin.

"Er…I…" Draco mumbled under his breath. Harry, who was shocked at the normally very articulate Malfoy's loss of words, slowly lifted the blonde's chin and looked at him. Draco met his eyes, but he looked ashamed and glanced away nervously.

"Draco…?"

Draco took a deep breath.

"In case you haven't deigned to notice, Harry, I've been watching you for quite a while. Ever since first year, in fact. The time you refused to be my friend? You intrigued me. I wanted to hate you badly, but I couldn't. I thought I did, all the way up to the Triwizard Tournament. Then…when you came back…I dunno. I think…"

Harry's lips came crashing onto his.

Draco's eyes widened at the unexpected advance, but he immediately leaned into the kiss and took control. He tangled Harry's hair into his hand, and heard the brunette moan as his tongue slid smoothly over Harry's lips. Slowly, his hands caressing the Gryffindor's lower back gently, he took a step forward. Harry took a step back. Draco broke the kiss and removed his hands from Harry's body.

Harry's brow furrowed as the warmth of Draco's body ceased to press insistently upon his chest. He looked up into the blonde's eyes, and Draco smirked down at him.

"Potter, I just feel that I should warn you before this goes any further…Power turns me on."

Harry had time to look confused for half a second, before Draco roughly shoved him backwards. Luckily, the heavenly bed upon which he had been laying this morning was there to break his fall. Though, he thought blearily as Draco vanished his clothes and then began to shrug his own robes off, it probably wouldn't have mattered if he had fallen 10 stories and broken his back, he still wouldn't be any less focused on this blond god who was stripping sexily in front of him.

Regaining a hold on his consciousness, Harry had a sudden impulse.

_Power turns me on._

Reaching up, he roughly grabbed the collar of the blonde's loosened button-up and yanked, causing Draco to land on top of him. Suddenly, Harry flipped them so that he was now laying directly over the Slytherin, laughing into the surprised silver eyes.

"Potter…I don't know _what_ you are thinking. I'm _always_ in control." The blonde breathed into Harry's ear as he rolled and caused the smaller boy to, once again, be situated under his lithe body. As Draco's nimble fingers slid down his chest, Harry decided that he didn't mind being powerless so much. The blonde smirked down at the Gryffindor, and slowly trailed his fingers toward Harry's hips. Their erections rubbed together, and both teens gasped. Harry tried to grind his hips upward, but Draco's hands held him back. Slowly, his silver eyes locked into the pleading green ones, and he slid downward, allowing his gorgeous silver hair to barely skim Harry's toned stomach.

"Draco…" Harry sighed, mesmerized, as Draco dipped his head and flicked his tongue across Harry's shaft.

"Harry?" Draco said softly, taking the brunette's head in his mouth and sucking lightly.

Harry moaned softly, and surrendered his last available defense to the blonde below him. He wanted to say it. Couldn't hold it back anymore…but, though he could feel those three words bubbling around in his heart, hell, his _soul_, he couldn't form their perfection on his lips. And what Draco was doing, whatever it was felt so _damn_ _good_ that Harry felt like he would die and never get a chance to tell Draco how he felt, that he…he loved him…

"Harry?" Draco asked again, this time removing his mouth from its ministrations. Harry, now aware that the blonde expected a reply, lifted his head slightly and looked down into the gleaming eyes of the Slytherin.

"Yea?" Harry half-moaned.

Draco grinned his wolfish grin.

"What if I told you that I like to play dirty, Harry? Would you let me? Would you let me have you just how I wanted you?"

"Anything."

Draco smirked, and Harry felt invisible hands twine themselves tightly around his arms and ankles.

"Good. I thought so. See Potter…" Draco rose from the bed and began to dress. "I can play dirtier games than you would ever be able to comprehend. So just sit back, and for Merlin's sake don't try to think about me too much, since, 1: you will never figure me out and 2: It would be quite embarrassing for you to die at the Dark Lord's feet with a stiffy."

Harry gaped as Draco smiled and swept from the room, pausing only once at the door. Harry saw a pang of regret swim through those silver eyes, which had, undoubtedly, settled on the tears which had risen to swim in Harry's green ones. Then he was gone from the room, and Harry saw swimming blackness.


End file.
